


Chemistry Lessons

by KidaCakes



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fighting, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Smoking, Underage Drinking, cliche stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:11:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KidaCakes/pseuds/KidaCakes
Summary: School, fights, and teenage hormones. Typical things for the average adolescent male. Yet there was nothing typical when it involved Rick Sanchez.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fifth fic for the Stanchez Micro-Bang! Other fics and art [here](http://stanchez-bang.tumblr.com)!
> 
> [Awesome Art](http://mccreesasshole.tumblr.com/post/152013008962/) by [mccreesasshole](http://mccreesasshole.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> Shout out to my beta @Stellar_Anarchist

The kiss reminded him of chemistry lessons in school; like when the right two elements were put together, they'd explode. 

The heat of their lips pressed together ignited little explosions along his nerve endings, spreading out all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Behind his closed eyelids, lights burst like fireworks. It was everything those stupid chick flicks described about a first kiss.

He wasn't going to let the other know that, though. Rick Sanchez was no mushy, romantic loser. 

When they pulled apart, their breathing had gotten a bit heavier, their eyes half lidded, and pupils blown out a bit. Rick’s mouth curled into a grin that matched Stan’s.

“Y-y-you’re so gay, Pines. Kissing me like-like that,” Rick said, tone one of jest.

“Me? Ha, yeah right. You're the one that was clinging to me _sooo_ tight I thought your nails were gonna tear through my jacket!” Stan teased back, large hands settling on narrow hips. 

“Y-yeah? Weeell, you're the one that p-pulled me close, gay boy.”

“Oh? Ya mean like this?” Stan asked as he pulled Rick flushed against his larger body, grinning down like the cat that caught the canary when he saw the blush spread over sun-kissed skin.

“S-see? You're gaaay, Pines. R-raging ho-homo,” Rick stuttered out a bit more than usual, turning his head to the side, trying to hide his traitorous heated cheeks. 

Stan just hummed in response, leaning in to kiss along the now exposed jaw, giving a soft nibble right below a pierced earlobe. The gasp he heard and the shiver he felt run through Rick made him smile against the warm skin, moving his mouth lower to kiss along the slender neck. One of his hands slowly sliding under Rick's shirt, thumb making small circles against his stomach. 

The flush grew on Rick's face until it reached his chest, his skin clammy. It made him feel like his skin was as hot as the sun, absentmindedly wondering if his flesh would melt off. Everywhere Stan touched burned with the most delicious, electric heat. It was too much and not enough at the same time. 

The bell rang, nearly deafening from their spot in the stairwell. They were lucky they chose the one that didn’t get as much foot traffic, foreign languages and the school store weren’t that happening of places. They separated entirely, Rick picking invisible lint off his shirt as he calmed down. Stan smiled and took the time to enjoy a blushing, embarrassed Rick. 

“Wanna ditch next period too?” Stan waggled an eyebrow in what Rick assumed was meant to be a suggestive way. “Or ya wanna learn some science junk, Sanchez?” 

There was a few students coming through the stairwell now, none taking interest or even notice of the two beyond avoiding walking into them. There wasn’t much time left before the next bell would ring.

“I-it wouldn’t kill you to go to-to class and learn something for once,” Rick shrugged, not that he actually wanted to go to class but not ready to continue more with Stan just yet. Not that he was going to tell the other boy such a stupid, blushing virgin reason. 

Stan pouted, he was really hoping that Rick would ditch another period with him, but shrugged on his backpack. He tossed Rick his own, narrowly avoiding the head of a passerby. “Yeah, alright, let’s get goin’ then.” 

They ended up making it to class as the bell rung. The good thing was the teacher was usually late, busy getting his 5th Irished up coffee of the day. They got their usual spot, the lab station in the back near the window. Good view, slightly pushed back further than the other stations, and near the eye wash station. No one had a reason to go near them unless they were the teacher or a bozo that got chemicals in their eyes. Best spot. Better yet, they were lab partners. 

-

Usually Stan had his classes with Sixer, except science class. His twin was bumped up to some more advanced science class. It was the worst thing that had happened to Stan academically. Who was he supposed to copy off of if not for Sixer? Stan was without his twin and Rick had, what teachers called, poor teamwork skills. They ended up together as lab partners. 

That same day they ended up in a fist fight. 

There was, at first, begrudging respect for one another after the first fight. After the next few fights, they found that detention wasn’t as boring as it used to be when they made obscene and rude gestures at each other and the observing teacher. Actually having a real conversation was weird at first but they found they meshed pretty well. 

They hung out more, spent more time together - mostly during detention, lunch, or when they ditched the same period - and actually enjoyed each other's company. They became wary friends. 

Then they kissed. It was more of a challenge that kept building up, neither backing down because they both wanted it. Even if their personalities refused to let them voice their wants. When their lips met, they both knew it was what they wanted. Of course being hard headed males that couldn't honestly express their emotions left them just making fun of the other after they pulled away.

Stan realized Rick was really smart, like Sixer smart. Stan found out after a few classes and hanging out with him. He was just really, really unmotivated; lazy even. Stan thought it was a requirement for smart people to be ultra nerdy and an obnoxious overachiever. Everyone he saw that was smart was a Poindexter. 

If Stan remembered correctly, he think Rick _was_ like that in their Freshman year. Something similar to a more traditional nerd look, at least. However, in their Senior year currently, he was nothing resembling any type of nerd. He had his ears and eyebrow pierced, wore mostly black ripped clothes, his already unruly hair was gelled to spikes. From his attitude to his attire screamed slacker punk. 

Rick found that Stan, after a few conversations and watching the other boy, was a lot smarter than he looked, which wasn’t really fair since he thought Stan was a brain stem with muscles and a smartass mouth. He could sweet talk most teachers into giving him a break for nearly everything. The others he gave sob stories or toor these convoluted stories that got them so confused they forgot what they were scolding him for in the first place. 

-

The teacher finally came in and wrote their assignment on the board - perform the scientific method answering the to question ‘What will the reaction of strontium and sulfur strontium and sulbe?’ - before sitting down at his desk, nursing his spiked coffee for the rest of the period.

“So, ya already know what happens with when those two mix or nah?” Stan asked as he tried to balance his pencil on the bridge of his nose, feet kicked up on the lab station.

“O-of course. It makes this pr-pretty cool light show. You-you gotta heat it first, though,” Rick said as he dug out a crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it out before passing it to Stan. “Just write out the-the method and I'll tell you what to fill in for each thing.”

“Eh, fine.”

They worked like that for a while, Stan writing down the answers as Rick dictates them. The rest of the class was busy actually performing the experiment. After that was done, they sat around talking about nothing in particular. Rick squirreled away a few different pieces of equipment from class for his own science shit at home. Why buy when you can get it for free?

The bell rung and everyone shuffled around, cleaning up their stations and handing in their assignments. They were one of the first to leave, having been done ages ago, and made their way out the door before the teacher could say a word. Their feet, Stan loosely leading them, took them to the door exiting the school to get to the athletic field, which they bypassed in favor of going behind the bleachers. 

Lunch period was usually spent with Rick by himself, doing some tinkering on a new invention or outside usually doing something illegal while Stan ate lunch and Ford was in the library or lab doing nerd junk. Now they spent their lunch period together, the majority of it outside, away from prying eyes.

The bleachers they’d chosen were seldom used anymore; the athletics field upgrade over the last few years meant a bigger field and new bleachers, leaving these to slowly decay as they waited to be torn down. They had set up two folding chairs there as their ditch spot. 

Stan had shrugged off his backpack, hung his his jacket off the back of his seat. It was still unseasonably warm for November. He flopped down into the chair as he looked up at Rick, patting his lap with another suggestive eyebrow waggle. 

Rick, for his part, took his time setting his own bag down, conscious of the fragile pilfered goods, before sitting in his own chair, pulling out a pack of smokes. He ignored the way Stan pouted at being brushed off as he lit a cigarette, tossing the pack and lighter to Stan. 

They sat in silence for awhile, smoking, letting the atmosphere around them grow uncomfortable until Stan spoke up.

“So, uh, science was easy, huh?” 

“Y-yeah.”

The uncomfortable silence returned.

“Do ya, uh, regret it?” Stan ventured, “The kissing, I mean.”

Rick flicked his spent cigarette, it arced in the air before hitting the packed ground in a small burst of embers, before shrugging awkwardly. “N-no, it's not that. I just don't feel like m-making out _all_ the time, Pines.” 

Stan slumped back in his seat, looking slightly hurt but trying to brush it off. “That’s rich comin’ from the guy that says he's slept with a _ton_ of women,” Stan scoffed.

“Yeah, _women_ , m-maybe that's why I liked kissing you, because you're acting-- you act like a-a girl.”

“So ya admit ya like kissing me, huh?” Stan smirked, not even acknowledging the jab to his masculinity. 

Rick flushed as he realized how much he revealed, stammering more. “Th-that’s n-n-not the p-point, Pines!”

Stan smiled a cocky, smug look on his face as he grabbed Rick's hand, forcing the other out of his seat and onto his lap. “Uh, yeah it is. And, jus’ for the record, I liked it too, _Rick_.”

Rick's stomach fluttered as his heart skipped a beat at hearing his first name said by Stan for the first time. It made his head swim and sweat anxiously. For the first time in his life Rick didn't have anything to say.

Taking in the darkening hue of red that bloomed along tan skin, Stan shifted them to get more comfortable. Rick now straddled Stan’s lap, his hands held Rick in place, thumbs brushing at the sliver of skin exposed from his shirt having ridden up. 

The air seemed to have gotten thicker, hotter, making it oppressive as they moved closer together. Rick had a genius IQ but even the smartest person was no match for teenage hormones when they craved something. And Rick's hormones were screaming for Stan. 

Lips met again, chaste at first, still unsure and learning about the other. Energy crackled between them and across their skin, electrifying the air around them. The moment of shyness and chastity had passed, their lips moves against each other's in tandem, hands grasping and touching, needing contact like a fish needs water. Stan darted his tongue out, swiping it questioningly against Rick's lower lip, making him gasp into the kiss at the feeling. Taking that as a green light, Stan slid his tongue between Rick's parted lips, tentative yet eager, the slick muscle finding it's partner. Rick pushed his tongue against Stan's, awkward and a little too hard, hands grasping onto his shirt tighter than needed. 

Stan took no notice of it, just enjoying the make-out and Rick's eagerness, making a pleased humming noise in the back of his throat. His hands stroked under Rick's shirt, touching as much tanned skin as possible before settling back on his hips, pulling him closer to him, their pelvises connecting in deliciously sinful friction. Rick let out a small, keening noise before cutting it off with a gasp. He felt Stan’s erection throb against his own, his hips rocking forward involuntarily. 

The noise Rick made went from Stan's ears straight to his groin, thoughts taking a backseat to basic human instinct. He sucked in Rick's tongue, getting another needy little noise in response. It drove him on as he held tight onto Rick's hips, rolling his upwarss. They only parted for a quick breath before mouths clashed back together, hungry. 

Rick broke the kiss, leaning back more than Stan could follow comfortably to continue, panting hard chest heaving, skin flushed and damp, lips kiss swollen. Not being discouraged in the slightest, Stan diverted his attention from Rick's lips to his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses along it. He stopped to nibble and suck on one particularly sensitive spot that had Rick gasping and squirming in his lap. His hands went from Rick's hips to under his shirt again, sliding over his lean stomach up to his chest, fingers brushing against his nipples.

“A-ahh… St-Sta… Stanley…” Rick whimpered, his grip on Stan’s shirt white-knuckled as he fought to control his reactions, mostly the noises he was making, to no avail.

“M’yeah…?” Stan mumbled against Rick's neck absentmindedly, fingers focused on toying with the hardening buds.

“W-we.. We sh-sho _ooooo_ uld stop.. L-l-lunch is al-ahh!-almost over.”

“Mm… Dun wanna,” Was all Stan had to say in return as he nipped at a prominent collarbone.

Before Rick could form a retort, Stan lifted his shirt high up, bunching the material under his armpits to expose his chest. Stan smirked up, meeting Rick's lust-addled gaze, before he ducked his head down, giving a pert nipple a teasing lick. Rick's eyes shut tight and he _moaned_ ; a low, wanton noise at the back of his throat that spilled over his plump parted lips, back arching sharply to press against Stan's face. His hands flew up to the back of Stan's head to hold him there. Stan would have chuckled or made a joke if his mouth wasn't preoccupied, now gently sucking and licking on rock hard pebble as he toyed with the other. 

Rick pressed his face against the top of Stan's head, soft gasps and needy whimpers muffled by brown hair. He was vaguely aware of the bell ringing but it sounded so far away. His thoughts were hazy and sluggish, like wading through molasses. He couldn't remember why he was so hesitant before, this was amazing. Stan's hands and mouth on him making his skin sing electric. It didn't matter now. He couldn't divert the brain power necessary to think about it with all the blood from his head gone south.

He could feel Stan's lips curl into a smile against his chest at his wantonness but he didn't care anymore about appearances. He needed _more_. More of what he didn't know but he hoped Stan knew. 

Rick went from cold and standoffish to this wanton, needy creature in no time flat. It made Stan’s ego swell and he redouble his efforts in unraveling the last of Rick's composure. He switched to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment as its brother that he left rock hard and swollen. His free hand wandered over Rick's stomach, his sides, his back before settling on his ass, squeezing through the tight jeans. He was painfully hard, trapped in the confines of his jeans. Stan shifted under Rick until he pressed the skinny boy even closer to him. His clothed erection became wedged right against the underside of Rick's ass. It was a slightly awkward position but it was worth it when Stan felt Rick grinding down on him, rocking his ass over his cock. It was a delicious, torturous sensation.

Feeling the hard-on pressed against his ass was too much for Rick, any reservations he had before went out the window as he let desire and hormones take the reigns. Rick rolled his hips back and forth in slow, stuttering movements, feeling the length of the other's cock slide against the seam of his jeans. All the while Stan kept playing with his nipples, getting them hard and sensitive to the touch, shivers going down Rick's spine. Rick's mouth hung open as he panted, moaning and gasping and whimpering incomprehensible words. 

“Do ya like that? Do ya want more?” Stan asked as he pulled away from Rick's chest slightly, unable to move more than a few centimeters away due to Rick's head on his and hands holding him in place. 

There was a short moment where it took Rick to register that Stan spoke to him, the only reason why he noticed was because Stan had stopped using his mouth on his chest. It took even longer to figure out what he said and realize he was supposed to respond.

“Y-yeah… Please, St-Stanley, I n-need… need more…” Rick panted out, mouth feeling dry from being kept open so long from his continuous stream of noises.

Stan fought down the groan that rose up his throat, hearing Rick say his name in such a way that he could have blown his load right there. He moved back further, forcing Rick to lift his head off of his and look down at him. Stan drank in the sight of flushed damn skin, swollen parted lips, dilated and glazed eyes. He was sure he didn't look much better.

“Okay, I got ya baby,” Stan reassured Rick, unsure if the endearment would be received well but it had slipped out so easily that he couldn't have stopped it.

Hands slid up Rick's sides to grab the hem of his shirt still bunched up under his armpits, Stan tugged up until the shirt came off, leaving Rick topless in the cool autumn air. Stan kissed Rick, desperate for contact but slow, gentle despite the need building between the two teens. Tongues slid together, Stan's hands cupping Rick's ass as he guided the boy in his lap to rock against him again.

It wasn't enough for either anymore. 

Stan broke the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting their lips before breaking. “Can I touch ya?”

Rick blinked, uncomprehending but nodded anyway, wanting more contact, _needing_ more. Stan had been touching him this entire time. Why would he say no _now_ of all times?

Stan lowered his gaze to Rick's crotch, hands pressed against his stomach, then moving to pop open the fly, pulling the zipper down and exposing Rick's boxer-clad erection. One large hand palmed the straining length before pulling the elastic of the underwear down far enough for Rick's cock to spring free, foreskin already peeled back partly and the head slick with precum. 

Rick gasped loudly as air hit his exposed cock, head swimming with sensation and reality. Only a few hours earlier he had his first kiss and now he was sitting in Stan's lap with his cock out. This was too much, too far, too fast. 

“St-Stanley, I-I-I--”

“Shhh, it's okay, babe, I got ya.” Stan cut Rick off, placing sweet, gentle kisses to his jaw. “I never, y’know, done anything with a guy before so bear with me.”

“B-but St-Stanle _EEEEE_!” Rick squealed as bare flesh connected with bare flesh, Stan's hand wrapped around his weeping dick was enough to short circuit his brain.

It was awkward and clumsy, the rhythm choppy, but Rick was on cloud nine. Rick had only ever had his own hand on his dick so every little movement, every squeeze and touch and brush of fingertips was brand new and overwhelming. He could only moan and buck into Stan's hand.

“St-Stan… L-L-Lee… _Ahhh f-fuck_! I-I-I I'm gonna, I'm gonna c- _cuuUUUM_!” Rick spilled his seed into Stan's waiting hand, body tense like a bowstring before relaxing, trembling as Stan stroked the last drop out of him.

Watching Rick, hearing Rick moan and stutter as he came, the grinding and foreplay was too much for Stan to handle. His hips bucked up against RIck's ass as he came in his pants, his release soaking his boxers, the fabric stuck to his skin and the inside of his jeans. It was the best orgasm of his life even though his dick wasn't touched once.

They stayed like that for a long time. Rick's arms draped over Stan's broad shoulders, head on top of Stan's, with Stan pressing his sweaty forehead against Rick's neck, catching their breath and coming down from their highs. It wasn't until Rick pulled away, stretching, his body felt like lead but so relaxed, that the world came back to them. Stan wiped his hand on the underside of the chair, getting rid of most of the now tacky mess. His eyes darting from Rick's spent cock to his face then off to the side, the lustful confidence now gone. Just a sense of sated afterglow and sudden shyness in its wake. 

Rick bit his lower, puffy lip before reaching down to tuck himself back in, doing up his jeans before sliding off Stan's lap. He stumbled, legs shaking from being stuck in a weird kneeling position for so long and the orgasm rendering them like jelly. Rick caught himself on the arm of Stan's chair before he straightened back up, sitting in his chair heavily, feeling exhausted and heavy and content and anxious.

They were silent for a while, not as uncomfortable as earlier, both wrapped up in their own thoughts about what had just transpired.

Stan leaned over his chair, rummaging through his bag before pulling out a new t-shirt. He took off the one he was wearing, a few drops of cum had landed over his chest and stomach, before sliding the new one on. Looking over at Rick before Stan blushed hot and embarrassed, opening his jeans and using his dirty shirt to clean the mess he had made in his boxers before it soaked through his jeans. He did up his jeans again, wadded up the shirt before stuffing it in his bag. He would have to do a secret load of laundry when he had the chance.

Seeing Stan cleaning up, realizing that he came in his pants, made Rick immediately want to cut into him. He didn't, knowing that any insult would be a stuttering mess and the blush on his face would kill any effect it would have on the other. Instead he grabbed his pack of smokes, lit one, before silently offering the pack to Stan.

Stan wasn't a big smoker, he actually only picked it up from Rick, but he could really go for one right now. That thing about post orgasm smoking seemed to be true. He took one from the pack, taking the lighter from Rick, and sitting back in his chair as they smoked.

“So, that was…” Stan started.

“Y-yep.” 

“Do ya, uh…?”

“N-no, n-not really… D-do you?” Rick answered the unsaid question the other had.

“No. Why ‘not really’?” Stan asked, wondering if he had done something wrong that made him regret it, even if it was only a little.

Rick shifted, taking a drag off his cigarette to stall. “I-I'm gonna be honest with you, Pines. I… I l-lied. About the women. I never… I-I-I… Youweremyfirstkiss.” Rick rushed out the last part in one breath, coughing at the end before looking anywhere but at the other teen, the heat in his face creeping up again.

Stan figured Rick lied about sleeping with a ton of girls. He thought, maybe, he slept with one or two. At the very least fooled around with a girl. Or guy, considering where they were now. Stan had sex before, with Carla “Hotpants” McCorkle before she fell for that damn hippie. He had kissed a few girls in his time. Stan just couldn't believe what he thought he heard Rick mumble out.

“Eh, what was that?”

“C-c’mon Pines, d-don't make me say it again. Asshole,” Rick mumbled, sliding down into his seat as he wished it would swallow him whole.

“No, I'm serious. I couldn't hear ya.” _Well, sort of, just need to make sure,_ Stan thought.

Rick sighed, like it was such a troublesome task, before sitting up straight, looking Stan head on. “I said, ‘You were my first kiss’, Pines. D-don't jerk yourself off too hard there now.” Rick sneered before taking one last hit of his cigarette, flicking it further under the bleachers. 

Stan decided to take the high road. He could see how defensive Rick was about this; a sore spot to his pride and ego, knowing that if he made fun of his inexperience it would hurt Rick. Plus, if he did, he probably wouldn't be able to do a repeat of this if he did poke fun.

“I’m, uh, I’m glad I was your first. Ya were my first for kissing a guy and, uh, the other stuff was a first with a guy. So there's that.”

Rick snorted, fiddling with the pack as he decided if he wanted another cigarette or not. Deciding fuck it, he sparked up another one before he responded. “Gee, Pines, that's pretty gay. Surprised it's your first time doing shit with a-a guy with you being so gay and all.”

Stan rolled his eyes, his own cigarette having been smoked and flicked a while ago. He reached over, grabbing the water bottle on the side of Rick's backpack, needing a swig of the spiked drink to deal with Rick's defenses. 

“Yep, I just hide the gay better than ya,” Stan said, dismissive. “I think we should drop callin' each other by our last names now that we've uh... gotten to know each other better.”

“Y-yeah, real better,” Rick said, taking a long drag before letting the smoke billow out from his nose. “R-real close now. Gonna, gonna give me your Letterman jacket and a-ask me to go steady now, _Stanley_.” 

“Yeah, gonna take ya to prom too. Get ya a corsage and take your ass out ta a fancy dinner. Yous'd look good in a dress since yer actin' like a grade A bitch.” Stan said, irate, taking a deep pull of the drink before putting it back. The burn in his belly spreading out, a welcomed fire to relax him.

“Came up with that a-all on your own there? I'm surprised you could come up with, come up with something so-so clever without your brother's help.” Rick said before he realized his mistake. 

Stan tensed at the insult. He had been called dumb all his life compared to his genius brother but hearing it from Rick was not unexpected but still hurt. He got up and put on his jacket before slinging his bag over one shoulder.

“I don't need this. Fuck you, Sanchez,” Stan said simply as he walked back to the main building, not looking back once.

Rick slumped in his chair as he toed at the dirt, watching as Stan took off and knowing he fucked up but couldn't bring himself to run after the other. Rick hoped that it'd water under the bridge tomorrow.

-

Stan didn't talk to Rick for days after that no matter what Rick tried.

He didn't ditch any classes except for Chemistry where he sat by Rick. They had a few other classes together but he sat by his twin for those. Stan made sure to be the last one in and the first one gone to avoid talking to Rick. Every attempt Rick made to talk to him was met with a cold shoulder. 

Rick tried to find him during lunch multiple times. In the cafeteria, their ditch spot, even the library where his brother usually spent his lunch. No Stan. It was getting ridiculous how far Stan was going to avoid Rick. There was one time in the hallway between classes and they caught each other’s eye. Stan immediately turned around and disappeared in the sea of bodies. 

Rick had enough of Stan acting like a baby about this. He waited outside the first class Stan had two weeks since the Freeze Out began. Stanford was already in class, no surprise, and it was a minute before the bell rung when Stan finally showed up. 

Stan didn't even notice Rick until he was a few yards away from the door, having been preoccupied with shoving stuff in his backpack, that he stopped. Rick didn't even give the other the chance to even _think_ about going into class or walking away when he closed the distance lightning quick, grabbing his arm and dragging him down the hall to an empty classroom. Rick pushed Stan in, locking the door and standing in front of it so the other couldn't escape so easily. 

“W-what the _fuck_ , Pines? J-just gonna avoid me for the, for the rest of your life, is that it?” Rick crossed his arms over his chest. 

“What? Think I was too _dumb_ to know how to make myself scarce?” Stan squared his shoulders, jutting out his chin, challenging. 

“L-look, I didn't mean--”

“Oh, I know _exactly_ what you meant. Stanley Pines: the muscle head, the dumb twin, the one everyone thinks is _too stupid_ to even know how to add two plus two.” Stan had started advancing on Rick, standing just in front of the other, his eyes shining and face flushed with anger. “I know what people think about me. I know everyone writes me off as nothing but a meat head when compared to Sixer.”

Stan looked away for a moment before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper, “I just didn't know ya thought that of me too.”

Rick saw the hurt and betrayal, hell, he could _feel_ it rolling off Stan in waves. His heart clenched painfully realizing how badly he hurt him, how much this eats at him, and it made all the anger he had at being ignored vanish.

“It doesn't matter. Ya can find another idiot to fuck around with. I'm done.” Stan pushed Rick to the side easily, reaching for the lock when Rick's hand grabbed his.

“Stanley stop!” Rick's tone was a octave higher and tone desperate, “I-I didn't mean it! I was j-just being a dick and defensive b-because _I’m_ the idiot. Just… Fuck.” Rick ran a nervous hand through his wild hair, not comfortable being so open and vulnerable. “You're my first for all-all this shit and I felt stupid about it. Y-y-you got experience and I don't and I don't _like it_. I don't like being the one that doesn't know shit.”

Stan turned to face him, regarding him warily, deciding on how much of Rick's sincerity he was willing it believe, if any. 

“It’s hard for me, okay? You know I’m an asshole most of the time anyway. I just… I'm… s-sorry.” Rick said, the last word a quiet mumble as he looked down, hand still on top of Stan’s.

Stan eyebrows shot up to his hairline at hearing the apology. Rick said sorry to no one for nothing unless it was dripping with sarcasm. This held no trace of sarcasm or insincerity, just open vulnerability. It was uncharacteristic and unexpected and exactly what Stan needed to hear.

Stan pulled his hand away from Rick's, making the other tense thinking he was being rejected, before wrapping his big arms around the skinny body, pulling Rick close. He sighed, cheek pressed against Rick's temple before he spoke. “Yeah, ya really are a’ asshole. But, I guess, you're _my_ asshole.”

Rick sniffed, the false alarm of the rejection having made his eyes water, and he pulled back to look at Stan. “Y-yours? F-fuck, Stanley, you're so fucking _gay_.” Rick smiled.

Stan grinned back and cupped Rick's cheek, swiping his thumb over Rick's cheek. “Heh, yeah, and so are ya, faggot.”

“Fuck, w-we really are, h-huh?” Rick laughed, pressing against Stan's chest, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Pretty crazy, huh? Never thought I'd be a queer. You on the other hand…” 

Rick shoved Stan in the chest, smiling and not the least bit perturbed by the insinuation. “H-hey!”

Stan just chuckled as he grabbed Rick's hand, pulling him back against his chest, his other hand tilting Rick's chin up to look Stan in the eyes. A pause, a heartbeat, then their lips met in a slow, comforting kiss. 

It didn't take long for the kiss to heat up, being teenaged boys and all. Lips parted, tongues clashed, hands grasped and tugged until they had to pull up for air. But it didn't stop them for long. Stan walked Rick backwards until his thighs hit a desk, grabbing his ass and hoisting him onto it, sliding in between Rick's legs until their erections pressed together.

Rick bit his lower lip, stifling a gasp, his hands grasping Stan's shoulders tight as he bucked against him. Stan chuckled low in his throat as he rolled his hips forward, placing kisses along Rick's jaw down to his neck. He sucks at the tanned skin, dragging his teeth over it to elicit more of the quickly addicting sounds Rick makes, leaving a bruise there. All Rick can do is cry out from the pained pleasure, bringing one hand up to muffle his cries, still coherent enough to realize they were in a classroom, at school, during school hours. Though the risk of getting caught was turning Rick on more than he thought it would.

Stan left another bruise next to the first, laving over each one, drawing small shudders from Rick. It was intoxicating, more than anything he had done in the past. Making Rick come undone under his touch was becoming his favorite pastime. His hands worked their way under Rick's shirt, seeking out his nipples, toying with them and drawing out a gasp from the other boy. Kissing along the expanse of exposed throat, nipping at his quivering Adam’s apple, to the other side, leaving another hickey in his wake.

Rick squirmed on the desk, biting his knuckle to keep from quiet and failing, he bucks up against Stan, his ass on the edge of the desk with his legs wrapped around Stan's waist. He was painfully hard and desperate for more, his head slowly filling with molasses again and making his mind sluggish. It made him anxious at being so debilitated and anxious for even more of the same feeling. 

“Rick… _Rick_ -” Stan panted against Rick's neck, voice low with desire as he said the other’s name, “-I want more.”

“M-me too, fu-fuuuck, me too, Stanley,” Rick had removed his hand from his mouth, stroking the back of Stan's head, grasping at the short, brown hair. 

Stan pulled back enough to look up at Rick with a salacious grin on his flushed face. “Ya know… Ya should make it up to me for being such a dick by suckin' mine.”

The blood that had rushing south suddenly changed course to flood Rick's cheeks, making them burn scarlet. “I-I-I n-never…”

“I know, it’s okay baby, I'll guide ya through it,” Stan said eagerly, backing up and pulling Rick with him. He led them around the desk and sat in a chair that he pulled out, guiding Rick to kneel between his legs.

Rick looked up at Stan briefly before down, staring at the bulge tenting the other teen’s jeans. He licked his suddenly dry lips as his hands slid along Stan's inner thighs until his fingertips brushed over his zipper up to his button, sliding it free of its hole before pulling down the zipper.

Stan watched with rapt attention to every movement of Rick's hands, every miniscule facial change, drinking it all in hungrily. He watched the nervous hesitation cross Rick's face as his swollen cock pushed his underwear away from his body, the tentative fingers running up the clothed length to the head and down again. He let out a small noise of approval, a hand threading through dark blue spikes. “That’s it. Yous can go as slow as ya want, no rush baby.” 

Taking a breath, trying to ease some of his tightly coiled nerves, Rick continued to caress the length of Stan's cock, watching as the fabric started to dampen at the tip, listening to the soft murmurs of encouragement and sharp intakes of breath. He hadn't heard much, if any, noises from Stan the last time they messed around. Too focused on his own pleasure, the blood pounding in his ears along with his shameless moaning at the time must have drowned it out. Now he could appreciate every sound as he touched and grew bolder, hooking his fingers under the waistband and pulling the elastic down over Stan's erection.

It was bigger than he thought it would be. A lot bigger. He had no reference to size other than his own. Which seemed a lot smaller since he didn't have to fit it into his mouth. Stan had said he could take his time, warm up to the main event, so he wrapped his slender fingers around the shaft and squeezed. 

Fingers clenched around blue locks, the short nails scraped light across Rick's scalp as Stan let out a soft hiss of pleasure, cock twitching in Rick's hand. “Ah.. Fuck, Rick. That's good, baby, nice and slow. Jus’ like ya do it to yourself.”

Pushing on, Rick took the advice, trying to imitate what he liked on Stan. It was a bit awkward, the angle, the fact it wasn't _his_ he was touching. Stan kept praising Rick, occasionally telling him to tighten or loosen his grip or to swipe his thumb across the head. It urged Rick on, getting bolder and more confident in his movements, even leaning in to swipe his tongue over the precum slick tip. It was weird, not unpleasantly so, but better than Rick expected. 

The gasp Stan made was music to Rick's ears so he did again, slower, getting a better taste of the other. It was slightly salty, bitter, without much of a taste beyond that. The texture was to be desired of the opaque fluid but the hot, spongy head of Stan's cock against Rick's tongue felt… pleasant, for lack of a better word. 

“Fuuuck Rick, your tongue feels so good,” Stan groaned out, nudging the back of Rick's head closer, silently urging him on.

Rick was more than happy to oblige. He stroked the shaft as he lapped at the head, occasionally pressing wet, open mouth kisses on it. Stan groaned softly, pressing against Rick's head again until there was no room for Rick to pull back from Stan's cock.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Stan commanded softly, fingers massaging Rick's scalp lightly.

It was only the briefest hesitation before Rick complied, parting his wet lips for Stan to slide the head into. There was a moment of panic as his mouth was stretched wider and wider by Stan's cock, worried his jaw would break. It didn't and Stan only put the head in, letting Rick get used to it first. 

“Nnngh… So good, baby, feels fucking amazing in your mouth.” Stan praised, fingers twitching and body tensing as he held back the urge to thrust balls deep into the wet heat.

It was slow and clumsy, Rick trying to suck on the head and lick it, to Stan's advice. Drool dripped down Rick's chin, the sound of messy slurping and groans of pleasure filled the room. Inch by inch Stan's cock slid in until it was about halfway, letting Rick to his mouth being filled.

“That's good, just get used to it. Then pull back to the head before sliding back down again,” Stan instructed, fingers carding through Rick's hair soothingly. “I also want ya to touch yourself, baby. Stroke yourself for me.”

The request was lewd, embarrassing, and _hot_. Rick's hand quickly found its way to fumbling with his fly until he was able to free his cock of the confines of his pants and underwear. He stroked himself at the same tempo as he stroked and sucked Stan; a slow, steady pace that was gradually picking up speed. The rhythm was thrown off when Stan started guiding Rick's head to move faster, pushing him down further on his cock, causing tears to sting Rick's eyes as the head hit the back of his throat. 

“You're so fucking hot, Rick, like that, on your knees suckin’ me off. Keep goin’ baby, faster.” Stan said, groaning low and speech breaking up with hard breaths and grunts.

Rick could feel the familiar heat coil in the pit of his belly, the throb of his cock in his hand, his balls drawing up. He moaned loudly around Stan's cock as he came, spilling his seed into his hand and onto the floor. The vibrations of the moan shot down Stan's cock and sent him over the edge. Without warning, he pushed Rick's head down until the tip of his cock pushed down his throat, making Rick gag as he came. 

Rick struggled as he gagged around Stan's cock, feeling the hot cum slide down his throat until Stan released his head, letting him pull back and cough, cum and spit dripping down his chin and tears sliding down his cheeks. The last of Stan's load hit Rick's cheek and chin before dribbling down the underside of his twitching cock. 

Rick was a mess. 

Rick was a sight to see. 

Sitting back on his calves, cock hanging out of his open pants, face flushed covered with a mix of fluids, dark hickies standing out against his olive skin. It was almost enough to get Stan hard again. 

Stan got up on shaky legs, going to the teacher's desk to grab a handful of tissues there and bringing some back to Rick. He used a few to clean himself up. It was quiet while they got themselves back together, the sound clothes rustling and the occasional cough from Rick were the only sounds. Stan gave Rick a hand up, hugging him tight once he got to his feet.

“Ya did amazing, babe. The best I ever had,” Stan murmured into Rick's ear before kissing along his jaw, hands rubbing Rick's back.

“H-heh. Everything I do is, is amazing,” Rick's voice was hoarse but he smiled, sated and proud. 

Stan rolled his eyes, smiling against the other's jaw before kissing him chastely. “Yeah, ya sure do.”

The bell rung, making both boys jump slightly at the sudden, piercing noise. The bustle of students followed, heading to lockers or their next class. They realized they spent the whole class messing around. Class time well spent, in their opinion.


	2. Chapter 2

“Honey.” Stan said as they walked down the block, gloved hands shoved into his winter coat pockets. 

Rick walked alongside him, wearing more layers with a thick scarf and pilfered hat from Stan, his spiky hair folded down under the hat. His gloved hands ran up and down his arms, still cold despite the layers. 

“Sugar.”

Rick kept walking.

“Muffin.”

Shoulders tensed.

“Gumdrop.”

Eye twitch.

“Puddin'.”

Rick came to a full stop, ankle deep in the fresh fallen snow, pulling his scarf down to glare at Stan's back before he turned around, realizing Rick had stopped. “W-what the _hell_ are you d-doing, Stanley?”

Stan gave Rick a goofy smile, clearly pleased with his reaction, coming up to brush some snow off of Rick's shoulder. “What? Don't like any of those pet names? I'm pretty partial to ‘spicy little love burrito’ but I'm open to suggestions.”

He stared at Stan for a moment, incredulous, before shoving at his shoulder to stomp by him. Stan laughed, a deep rich sound, letting Rick shove past him, following behind. “F-fuck off, Pines. I'm not a, not a chick.”

“Aw, sweet potato, pet names aren't just for chicks.”

“I s-swear to fucking hell I will deck you.”

Stan just chuckled, letting it drop for now that they reached their destination. 

They walked into the little diner, nothing spectacular but they had good food for cheap, stomping the snow from their shoes at the door. It was busy; Friday night during winter break in a town that didn't have much to it. There was a couple of adults, most at the counter, the booths filled with teenagers. They found one booth towards the back and sat down, shedding their winter gear before looking at the menu.

Stan had insisted that they go out on a ‘date’. They hadn't labeled their relationship, yet, but there was an unsaid agreement that whatever they had was exclusive. Since this was Rick's first relationship - unlabeled or not - Stan wanted to do it at least part way right. Stan figured the usual ‘dinner and a movie’ was okay for a first date. He was still learning about Rick, plus having little money and not much to do during winter left them with limited options. 

Obviously they've told no one about their arrangement. Two guys together wasn't something well received. They didn't act any different really. Well, maybe a bit more physical contact. More playful shoving or hands lingering a second longer than necessary. People only saw them as two screw ups hanging out together, which worked out in their favor. This was the first time they hung out outside of school. 

Rick put up some fight about it, not wanting to mix with the ‘mindless sheeple' on what society deemed customary for couples. However, secretly, he was excited for the date. Anxious, yes. Nervous, yes. But still excited. He didn't think they would ever go on a date, being two guys and all, so he was surprised when Stan had called him up. How Stan got his number was still a mystery he wasn't telling any time soon.

The waitress, a woman in her early 20s, came up to their booth with a smile, looking frazzled from the busy Friday night rush. “What can I get you boys?” 

Stan looked at Rick, silently signaling for him to give the waitress his order first. “U-uh, just a burger and fries. A-and a chocolate milkshake, extra whip cream.”

“I'll take the same but a Coke instead of a shake.”

The waitress jotted down their orders, a quick “Coming right up” before she left.

Stan nudged Rick's foot with his own, getting a glare in return accompanied by a small blush. _Cute._

“So, w-what are your plans for after graduation?” Rick asked, twirling a fork between his fingers. 

“Heh, gonna finish the Stan O’ War and set sails for adventure, treasure, and women! Just me ‘n’ Sixer on the open seas.” Stan smiled, happy.

Rick scoffed, letting the fork clatter back onto the table. “Oh y-yeah? Women, huh? And here I thought you were a different type of pirate.”

Stan smiled, for a different reason now. He leaned in a bit, elbows on the table. “Aw, is someone a bit jealous? Maybe if ya play your cards right I'll let ya tag along, be my cabin boy.” He leered with a mischievous glint in his eyes

Rick was thankful for the cold weather, giving him an excuse as to why his cheeks were bright red. “Pfffbt, as if I'd want to be stuck on-on a dinky little boat with your lame brother. I got my own plans.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What? Professional shit talker? Or maybe be a teacher?” Stan snorted at his own joke, knowing exactly what Rick thought of the educational system. 

“F-fuck you. No, shut up,” Rick said quickly as he saw Stan's mouth open. “I'm gonna leave this two bit town, this country, fuck, this world. I'm gonna explore the stars.”

“What, like NASA or somethin'?”

“Fuck those government sh-shits. I'm gonna be doing it by myself, Stanley, see what's out there for myself. Find something better.”

For all the science he did, for how smart he was, Rick was a dreamer. He dreamed big. If Stan had to put his money on one person accomplishing that dream, it'd be Rick, hands down.

The waitress came back with their order, giving them a small smile before heading to her next table. Stan dug into his burger while Rick went right to the milkshake. They had gotten about halfway done with their meals, making the occasional insult or joke, when the sound of ignorant homophobia broke the comfortable atmosphere.

“Well, lookit what we got here, boys. A couple of queers on a date.” Both boys turned to look at the group of guys that had come up to their booth. It was some of the football jocks from their school. 

The leader Brad, the quarterback of the team, was the one that had spoke. The rest of his group laughed and ooh’ed, brainless responses to back the main meathead.

“Are we interrupting ya little fags date? Aw, is it yours first date? That's so _sweet_.” He mocked, not realizing how true his comment was. The rest of the meatheads jeered, high fiving each other on the lame insult.

“Y-yeah? I bet you all know about being queer. With all the-the naked butt slapping you guys do in the locker room. Just all that, all that male on male body slamming on the field not enough for y-you?” Rick sneered at them, not intimidated in the slightest despite them all having at least a good sixty pounds and a couple of inches on him.

The quarterback visibly ruffled, not expecting a comeback, slammed his hands on the table. The diner went quiet as all attention was drawn to the booth.

“Ya think you're hot shit, you stuttering little fagot. I bet you love checking out all the guys in the locker room, huh? Bet ya wanna blow all of us, huh, ya cockslut?”

Stan slid out of the booth, making the quarterback back up a bit. “Listen, man, we just wanna eat. Why don't ya go back to your table and do the same.”

The king of the testosterone monkeys sized him up, knowing that he was the bigger threat, but unable to back down in front of his goons. He shoved a finger against Stan’s broad chest. “You gonna make us? You and your little butt buddy?”

This wasn't going to be resolved so easily, Stan thought. He gave a glance back at Rick, their eyes met and a silent exchange was made. Stan shifted his gaze back to the jocks. He smiled, unimposing and easy, chuckling. “Hey now, we’re mature, young men and we should be able to reach -- SALT SCREEN!”

The group of lugs gave a confused look for a split second as Stan waved his hand across them. He had slipped the salt shaker into his long sleeve shirt before he got up from the table, letting the cap fall as he sent a wave of salt over them. 

Stan quickly grabbed his coat, glancing at Rick to see he had his stuff in his arms as he got out of the booth, both running towards the door and out into the frozen night, leaving the sound of pain and chaos in their wake. They ran all the way down the block, hopping into Stan’s car, peeling out as fast as they could.

Rick had rolled down the window to flip off the group that had just burst through the diner door, laughing maniacally as he saw the quarterback scream and run after them to only trip. He slid back in, rolling up the window again as he sat. Both boys flushed, panting, and laughing breathlessly. 

“How's that fer-a first date?” Stan asked as they drove aimlessly.

Rick shrugged, smiling, “D-definitely in my t-top ten.”

Stan shoved Rick's shoulder lightly, making the other boy laugh. “You're sucha dick.”

“Yeah, b-but you like me and my diiiiick.”

Stan rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he chuckled, “Can't believe those assholes. If two guys eating is a date then they musta had a fuckin’ orgy goin’ on.”

“Y-you know how those football fucks are: sit a-around the locker room jerking each other off be-before a game, letting all that testosterone flow,” Rick shrugged leaning back in his seat as much as he could. “Still though, that was some quick work with the salt, Stanley. It was cheap b-but I approve.”

“Not really cheap, jus’ evening the playing field. Five against one--”

“T-two.”

“Five against two is cheap and cowardly. I also wasn't planning on our first date to end in a fist fight.”

“Would've been fun.”

“Only the finest beef and brawl for ya, cupcake,” Stan said then groaned. “We didn't pay. Looks like we can't go back there again.”

“Dinner, making jockstraps l-look like fools, and a dine ‘n’ dash. Really-really know how to show a guy a good time there, Stanley.” Rick laughed as he lit up a cigarette.

“Y’know me; class act all around.”

The car pulled to a off the road to park on the shoulder. The road was high up, allowing the boys to stare out the window to the town below, covered in a blanket of white over twinkling lights, the ocean dark and calm behind it. 

“W-wow.”

“It's not the most romantic spot or nothin’, but it has my favorite view of everythin’,” Stan shrugged, scooting over a bit before he tugged Rick to meet him the rest of the way, arm going around his shoulders. “When I don't have a place to be or know where to go, I usually end up here. I thought ya might like it.”

Rick watched as snow drifted down, the night quiet and the town looked peaceful. It really was a beautiful view. “Eh, I-I’ve seen worse views, b-but the company isn't _completely_ in-intol- bad so it makes it an o-okay date.”

“Are ya always such a twat or is that somethin’ special jus’ for me?”

“I-I'm always an asshole but I'm _extra_ assholish for you, b-baby,” Rick smiled as he leaned into Stan's side.

“Aww, gee, ya gonna make me blush, dumpling.”

“Pumpkin.”

“Snicker Doodle.”

“Sn-snookums.”

“Pickle Pie.”

“Chunky M-monkey.”

“String Bean.”

“L-lumox.”

“Poindexter.”

“Punchy.”

The both delved into a fit of laughter, the events of the night and the chemistry between them made it easy for them to relax, watching the dark world turn white. 

-

They had stayed there, enjoying stretches of comfortable silence dotted with random topics, until the lights of the town were almost all off save for the streetlights. They separated so Stan could drive Rick back to the place he picked him up, the corner of Cross street and Rhode avenue. Stan had tried to drop Rick off at his place but he adamantly refused, giving brush off excuses. It bothered Stan but Rick reassured him it was fine, he was a big boy and all. 

He gave Rick a chaste kiss before he climbed out, watching the other light a cigarette before waving him off. 

Stan crept in as silently as he could, not wanting either of his parents, especially his dad, to know he was arriving home so late. He made it without incident to his shared room. 

“Stanley?” The sleepy voice of his twin rose to his ears in the dark.

“Yeah, sorry Sixer, didn't mean ta wake ya,” He was stripping down to just his boxers, not feeling like looking for sleepwear in the dark.

There was a rustling then the click of the lamp being turned on. Ford was rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his bunk. “What are you doing coming back so late? Did you wake anyone else?”

“If I did, everyone would be up, ya know how Pa is. But they won't stay asleep if ya don't keep it down,” Stan climbed up onto his bunk, stretching out on it before looking over the edge at his brother.

“Stanley… Were you out with that Rick fellow?” Ford asked, tone hesitant and tinged with judgment. 

Stan froze.

Stan knew his brother didn't approve of him hanging out with Rick. It was quite clear he thought very little of Rick and had a strong dislike of the guy. Rick was a slacker, a showoff, egotistical, and the only one that could correct Ford when he got something wrong - which he did quite loud and as obnoxiously as he could. 

He had told his parents he had a date with a new potential girlfriend - it wasn't a lie besides the ‘girl’ part - and he thought Sixer had heard when he told them. Maybe he hadn't, too focused on his nerd junk like always.

“I had a date tonight, Sixer. Had dinner and nixed the movie to watch the snow fall on the town. Didn't realize how late it got. Sorry if I made ya worry.” Stan said, hoping his pause in replying would go unnoticed. 

“Oh.”

Ford bit his lip, brows furrowing as he thought. Stan was just about to roll onto his back when he spoke. “Rick… He isn't a good influence. He has gone downhill since the end of freshman year. I don't want him dragging you down too.”

Stan knew his brother was trying to look out for him, had his best interest in mind when he said it, but it made Stan angry. So what if Rick wasn't the same as freshman year? It didn't make him a bad person. People just change. 

“He isn't that bad when ya get to know him. He’s a little rough around the edges but I think you'd like him if ya gave him a chance.”

Ford looked up and gave him an incredulous look, like he was crazy. “I _did_ know him, Stanley. He was intelligent - almost as intelligent as myself - and now it’s like he’s trying to throw his future away. We were sort of friends in freshman year and then he just _changed_.” Ford paused for a moment, “He changed. Something just - I’m not even sure - broke. We stopped being friends.”

“He still _is_ smart, Sixer. He just doesn't flaunt it around anymore. Maybe the change is for the best, ya don’t know if it isn’t. He’s just enjoying life.”

Ford scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Yes, ‘enjoying life’ by being a burnout before he even graduated high school. _That’s_ really intelligent. My apologies.” 

Stan felt his anger rising at the clear disdain Ford voice held. They might not be official or anything but he still felt the need to defend Rick. “He isn't a showoff-y genius like ya so that means he’s makin' dumb choices in your eyes? He still gets good grades and all that so I don't see what’s the big deal, Sixer.”

“The ‘big deal’ as you put it, Stanley, is that he has potential to do so much more! He could put in more effort and get scholarships to a lot of colleges. He could get into West Coast Tech! Do something great with his life, _be_ something great.”

There was a moment of quiet before Stan spoke, “Gotta go to college to be something great, huh? Looks like I’ll never be anything but a common schmuck.”

“Stanley, that isn't what I meant and you know it. Someone like Rick could do incredible things if he applied himself but he’s choosing not to. He’s choosing to be a loser.”

“While _some_ of us don't even get a choice,” Stan said bitterly, his anger from Ford badmouthing Rick being fueled more with the genius superiority talk. “At least he’s fun to hang around! He’s never made me feel like I was a loser or that he was better than me. He likes me just the way I am, non-genius-y and all.”

Ford faltered, the conversation quickly running away from him. “I never meant… If I ever made you feel like that--”

“Yeah, whatever, Stanford,” Stan interrupted, jumping to the floor with his pillow under one arm and his blanket under the other. “Ya might not try to but it’s easy to see what ya really think sometimes. I’mma sleep on the couch. Night.”

Stan left before Ford could retort, closing the door firmly behind him but still trying to keep quiet, not wanting to explain why he was up at this hour to his folks. He set up his spot on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he fell asleep. Thoughts of Ford and Rick plaguing his dreams. 

-

The rest of the winter break was tense between Stan and Ford. Lacking general people skills combined with the belief he did nothing wrong, no apology was made by Ford. Stan did have to go back to sleeping in their shared room, only acknowledging him when their parents were present. 

Stan knew he should just put it behind him, that Ford really did have him in mind but was crap at reading people. He _knew_ it but he couldn't let it go. The barbs at Rick, the unintentional insinuations, the feeling of inferiority compared to the two geniuses sat in the pit of Stan's stomach like a stone. There was also the realities of his situation that made the stone grow heavier.

If Ford was this disdainful of him just _hanging out_ with Rick, how would he feel if he found out the rest? He knew it wouldn't be good. He worried that he might even tell their father, who was anything but accepting of that sort of thing. Anything that could reflect poorly back on him wasn't tolerated. 

It didn't help that the one date was all they saw of each other for the whole break either. Between his own family holiday affairs and Rick’s vague excuse of ‘things’ he had to do left them no time to meet up again. He was beginning to miss the skinny little shit talker. 

When school rolled around again, things between Stan and Ford were still uneasy but time had made it less so. They were even talking about the boat again, much to each of their mutual relief at the ease and excitement of the topic. It was brief, however, since Ford quickly got immersed in his next science project, one that would be showcased in the end-of-the-year science fair. 

New semester, new classes, yet he still had Chemistry with Rick. The teacher not even bothering to assign new partners. It worked in their favor, neither wanting to work with anyone else. They also shared two other classes as well, but the teachers had assigned them far enough away from one another that talking wasn't an option unless they wanted to get the whole class's attention. 

They didn't have a chance to talk much outside of class for various reasons: their usual spot covered in snow, the hallway they had first kissed now blocked off for maintenance, and boxing picked back up for Stan with his early mornings and after school devoted to the ring. It left them with limited options and pent up frustrations.

It wasn't until a few weeks back in school were they able to find some alone time. Ford wanted to stay late at school to work on his project. Stan didn't have to go to practice that day. It gave Stan the option to do something else and come back a few hours later or stay and wander the school. Or, option three; find an out of the way classroom with Rick to mess around in.

Option three it was. 

Stan had slammed Rick against the door as soon as it closed, holding his thin wrists together above his head in one hand while locking the door with his other. Lips met in a desperate kiss; teeth clinked together, tongues slid against and wrestled one another. Stan pressed up against Rick, already half hard from over a month since they last spent time together, longer still since they last did anything. 

Teenage hormones were a bitch sometimes. 

“Missed ya… Missed ya so much,” Stan said, words coming out mumbled as he had his lips still against Rick's, working his way down his jaw to just below his ear where he sucked on the sensitive spot there.

“Nnngh… St-Stanley… It's only been a, been a few weeks,” Rick gasped out, his fingers flexing uselessly above him, hips rocking forward to add more friction.

“Been too long.” Stan paused in his attack to nibble on Rick's earlobe before breathing out, “Gonna make ya feel so good, babe, so good.”

Rick shuddered as the warm breath tickled his ear while the words made his cock throb. He whimpered, arching off the door slightly, wriggling as he was held in place, getting desperate for more bodily contact. “St-St-ahh... pl-p-please.”

Stan growled low in his throat, mouthing down Rick's neck before biting, sucking hard at the flesh, marking him. He slid his free hand between their bodies, trailing down the side of Rick's neck, over his chest, stopping to tweak a nipple and getting a whimpering gasp in response, before finally cupping Rick through his tight jeans. 

“Ah! Sta-Stanley pleee-ah-se!” Rick ground hard against Stan's large hand. His hands were almost freed from how hard he was squirming. 

A low chuckle reverberated in his chest at deliciously needy Rick was. If he wasn't in a similar state, Stan could have teased the other for longer, hours even. Watch Rick's piercing eyes glaze over with pupils blown wide, his lips slick and slightly swollen, teeth worrying his lower lip to try to stifle his noises, the deep red traveling from his face down his neck to disappear beneath his collar, his heaving chest. He'd watch this sinful punk fall apart another day when he had more patience.

Stan tugged on Rick's belt before growing frustrated, too worked up and eager to take it off one handed. He lets go of Rick's wrists reluctantly, quickly moving to unbuckle his pants before unzipping them. With little preamble, Stan forced Rick's jeans and underwear to his ankles, wrapped tight around his boots. His hands traveled back duo Rick's inner thighs before spreading them as far as they could with his ankles bound. 

“Ya want me to make ya feel good, Rick? Want me to-” Stan leaned in close to Rick's ear, “-suck your cock?”

Rick groaned deeply, knees threatening to buckle as his mind supplied him with many a fap-worthy image. His hands grabbed Stan's broad shoulders before leaning up to kiss him fiercely. The kiss lasted for an intense, but brief, moment before they broke apart, Stan's hands settled on Rick's narrow hips. 

“S-suck me off, baby, mm-make-make me cum for you,” Rick said, giving Stan one last kiss on the lips before leaning back against the classroom door. 

“Mm, fuck, Rick, that's fucking hot.” Stan dropped to his knees, looking up at the other, seeing his uncut cock standing at attention, bobbing in the air. 

Stan has never sucked cock, never was attracted to guys before Rick, but he has had his cock sucked a few times. He can at least try to imitate what he liked done on him. Which was kissing and licking to start with.

A hand wrapped around the base of Rick's cock to hold it still, peeling back the foreskin to expose the slick, swollen head. He pressed kisses along Rick's hips, mouthing at the prominent hipbones, before giving the head a sloppy open mouth kiss. He listened to Rick gasp and moan, making Stan's cock strain against the confines of his pants, feeling his legs tremble as he lapped at the tip, swirling his tongue around the head.

Rick had brought one arm to cover his eyes as he bit his lower lip hard, trying to keep the worst of the noises at bay. He didn't think it could feel this good, so fast, so easy. Stan stroking him before was amazing but _this_ was unworldly. It could make him go insane. Maybe he was insane. 

“St-ah! Lee! M-my legs… Th-they're giving ooout,” Rick gasped, his legs trembling harder now, body starting to slump down the door. 

Stan hummed and gave one last lick to the wet head before pulling away. With a little maneuvering, Stan was able to rest Rick's thighs on his shoulders, back pressed up against the door, ankles still imprisoned against Stan's back. Rick was light so it was easy to support the lithe boy with the aid of the door, his hands holding his ass up. His mouth going back to Rick's cock, sucking on the head now, tongue running over the slit. 

Rick felt entirely exposed and vulnerable in this position, wishing Stan would have just let him sit in the chair. If Rick was entirely honest with himself, there was a small thrill that went through him as he was hoisted up, held aloft by Stan on his knees, feeling strong muscles flex under his thighs. He hadn't expected Stan to do this - sucking him off - he had thought about it, jerked off to it, but this was better than any fantasy he could conjure up. Then all thought bled out of his mind beside what was going on between his legs.

Stan had gotten half of Rick's length into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. His hands were kneading the pert globes, thick fingers teasing Rick's crack, one lone finger brushing against his entrance. Rick jerked his hips - which was difficult in his position - as the finger glided over the sensitive ring of flesh, a gasp and his hands went to Stan's head. Stan let out a little hum as he sucked, the vibrations going down the cock in his mouth, finger swiping over Rick's entrance once more, lingering there, as he sucked a bit harder. Another gasp and jerk, body in his grasp shaking, heels digging in under his shoulder blades.

“I'm-I'm go-ah!-gonna cum Staaaanle-eee!” Rick was shaking harder, breath coming out in ragged gasps and broken sobs of pleasure. 

Stan pulled back to suck on the head, running his tongue over the tip, his finger pressing against Rick's opening, pushing halfway into it, groaning as he felt the tight heat constrict around his finger. A few seconds later, Rick came with a cry, body trying to lift up to press deeper into Stan's mouth but unable to.

It was… not bad. Not the best tasting thing in the world, more reminiscent of salty, warm snot, but despite the mental image it wasn't off putting as he expected. Stan let it pool into his mouth, waiting until Rick had finished, before ducking his head down and spitting it on the floor. He carefully removed the lax body he was supporting on his shoulders, letting him sit on the floor. 

Stan got to his feet, quickly opening his pants and shoving them down just enough to get his aching erection out. Rick looked up at him, completely debauched looking, eyes unfocused for a moment before he blinked, eyeing Stan's cock and opening his mouth.

That was all the invitation Stan needed.

It didn't take long, a few thrusts into Rick's lax mouth, before he was spilling over, feeling Rick swallow around him, making him groan. Stan sat on the floor next to Rick, arms touching, tucking himself back into his pants. 

Rick was still had minute tremors going through him, his bare ass on the floor with his legs bent, eyes closer with his head tilted back. A cigarette sounded amazing right now.

“Heh, feel good now, do ya?”

A small smile played on Rick's lips, “Y-yeah, pretty good.”

They sat for another few minutes, Rick finally finding the strength again to shimmy up his pants, before they got to their feet. 

Stan gave Rick a soft kiss, sweet and slow, the burning need now quelled. 

Rick chuckled as they pulled away, “Y-you're such a fag.”

“Only for you, darlin',” Stan smiled, placing a kiss on Rick's forehead before unlocking and opening the door.

Only to be greeted with a red faced, livid looking Stanford.

“Stanley,” Ford voice was quiet, like he was barely controlling himself from screaming, “we are going. Now.” The tone left no room for debate. It reminded Stan of their father.

Stan glanced at Rick, giving him a small shake of his head as he saw his mouth open to say something, before following after Ford. The stone that had been sitting in the pit of stomach now felt jagged and sharp. 

-

The drive was quiet. Stan not wanting to say anything to set his already fuming twin off and Ford trying to compose himself enough to talk.

They were about halfway home when Ford spoke.

“When?” The tone was measured, cold, calm. It made Stan want to fidget.

“Back in October,” Stan supplied, glancing at Ford through his peripheral. “Listen, it isn't that bad, Sixer, we were ju--”

“Isn't that bad? Isn't that _bad_?!” Ford voice went up an octave. “You we just-just _fornicating_ \--”

“We didn't ‘fornicate’. We were just mess--”

“--with someone I implicitly warned you not to associate with!” Ford continued as if Stan hadn't spoken. He had been gesticulating as he spoke, angry flicks of his hands, before the dropped to his lap with a heavy sigh. “He is _bad_ news, Stanley, and he will only drag you down. You're my brother - my twin - and I don't want to see that for you.”

Ford turned in his seat, looking at Stan with hard but caring eyes, a hand on his shoulder. “Please, for me, don't see him again. Don't _do_ things with him.”

Stan had the wheel in a white-knuckle grip, shoulders hunched and tense. He didn't want to look at Ford, his hand on his shoulder, or hear his words. He wanted for this to go away. If he had took Rick somewhere else Ford wouldn't have caught them. He wouldn't have to sit here, having to choose between two people he cared the mo--

The car served slightly before Stan straightened it out again, heart feeling like it was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, pressure threatening crush it. 

When did Rick become someone he cared for? Someone he cared for enough to make him hesitate in giving into Ford's request?

The little punk wormed his way into his heart without him even knowing. 

“I…” Stan started, stopped, licked his lips, and started again, “I can't, Stanford, I just can't. I… care about him.” 

Ford, for once, was speechless. 

Stan ran his hand through his hair - he'd have to get it cut again - before sighing, “It isn't anything serious - whatever we got - but I do care about him. Just try to understand.”

“I _don't_ understand. I don't know how you can care about him or even like him enough to… to--”

“Yeah, I don't know either. He's jus' got that way about him, I guess.” Stan chuckled, but it held no humor.

“Stanley… You've _lied_ to me, to cover up-” Ford waved his hand flippantly, “-whatever this is you have with him. He's already poisoning you.”

“Whaddya want me to say? ‘Oh hey, I'm taking this guy out on a date. We've jerked each other off and I’ve sucked his co--”

“Language, Stanley!”

“All’s I'm sayin' is that there was no real way for me to tell ya. And I couldn't tell Ma or Pa, especially Pa.”

“I thought you liked _girls_ , Stanley. What about that McCorkle girl? You two were pretty serious for awhile. And you've never indicated an interest in the same sex.” It was apparent in Ford's voice how lost he was, how much he disliked not understanding anything, and needed answers.

“Well, I still like girls, I think. I can appreciate a fine gal walking along,” Stan grinned and Ford snorted. “It's just Rick is the only guy I’ve ever been attracted to. I don't try to understand it, Sixer, I ain't smart like yous two. I'm just living with it.”

They arrived in front of their place, Stan cutting the engine but making no move to get out just yet. 

“I'm not asking ya to understand why him ‘cause I sure don't but I'm asking ya to trust me. He ain't gonna change anything between us - always gonna be me and you against the world.” Stan grinned and looked over at Ford.

“Grammar, Stanley,” Ford corrected automatically. He sighed and fixed his glasses before giving Stan a small smile in return. “I don't agree with what you have with him, not particularly because he is male, but because it is him. I wish you would have gotten smitten with someone else. However, as long as it doesn't change anything, I won't tell Pa.”

Stan clapped a large hand on Ford's shoulder. “Man, thanks, Sixer!”

“Don't thank me yet. I will tell him if you start doing anything I don't approve of - well, more than just being with him, that is.” Ford smirked a bit. “Also, for lying, you can't copy my homework for a month.”

Stan groaned, “That's harsh, Sixer! Doing that to your own, devilishly handsomer twin.”

“Do you want to make it two months?”

Stan held up his hands in mock surrender, laughing. 

It wasn't how he planned the day to go but it was better than expected with Ford knowing - and begrudgingly accepting - his relationship with Rick. At least he didn't have to worry about his brother finding out about them anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

The car was a smoky haze, making it difficult to view from the outside in. It was parked on the shoulder, overlooking the town, muddied white and gray. The two figures in the front seat were passing a joint back and forth, the drug working its way into their systems, languid and intoxicated. 

Rick had his feet kicked up on the dash, discarded boots lay on the floor of car because no one ruined Stan’s baby. He took a deep drag of the joint, tapping the ash into the ashtray, before handing it to Stan with a slow exhale of thick smoke. 

It was Saturday, one that both had free so they spent it together, sitting above the town and getting high. 

“Y-your brother still keeping this-” Rick vaguely gestured between them, “- a secret?”

Stan had taken a hit, holding in the smoke, so he nodded his head. Then he realized Rick couldn't see him nodding from his leaning position against Stan's side. “Yeah, he's been pretty cool about it.”

Rick snorted, knowing how much Ford disliked him, he doubted that he was really ‘cool’ about it. But he didn't say anything. If the nerd king was keeping their secret he wouldn't say anything bad about him. At least not as much. 

The joint passed between their hands a few more times until Rick had to use his fingernails to hold it, snubbing it out in the ashtray. He reached behind the seat to a small bag of snacks that Stan had stashed in here - just for Rick’s sweet tooth - grabbing a thing of wafers and munching away. 

Stan has had to vacuum his car more times in the short amount of time he has let into his car than in the whole time he has owned it. Rick was messy. Even with his experiments he was more careless than not. Which has resulted in a few spectacular failed chemistry lab debacles. Rick was never off put by it. He would mumble to himself and jot things down or laugh wildly, acting like it went better than he expected. Maybe they had, for all that Stan knew.

Stan plucked a wafer from the package, chuckling as he heard Rick make a sound of indignation. He preferred his toffee peanuts more but messing with Rick was always fun. 

“Y-you know, Stanley, we could just leave,” Rick said after a long moment of comfortable silence while they ate. It was an abrupt thought, something that just popped into his head, and he blurted it out before he could even process it himself. Well, it was out now. “I mean, w-w-we could see the world ourselves, adventure and-and shit, Stanley. We could rob the world blind with my brains and your, and your charm.” Rick had his arms outstretched, waving a wafer this way and that, as if pointing out places to go on an invisible map.

Stan shifted, back pressed against the door, one leg bent on the seat with his foot dangling off. He pulled Rick to his chest, arms wrapped around his middle, his thighs laying across Stan's leg. He let his chin rest on Rick’s shoulder as he watched him continue to paint a picture of their travels in the smoky air. A swirl of smoke dancing in the setting sun, possibilities of the future, fleeting like a dream. It made warmth spread through Stan's chest.

They were both dreamers, in a sense. Of grandeur, of adventure, of ambitions often and harshly shot down by others. It didn't stop Rick from his plans of traveling the stars or of Stan sailing the seas. They just stuck out their chins and flipped off the naysayers, their lofty dreams becoming vehement goals. That was something that drew each to the other; the glint in their eyes when they spoke of their dreams, still just as passionate from the first moment it popped into their respective heads. 

Rick had changed from traveling the Earth to the stars; naming galaxies and planets that Stan hadn't heard of. He believed there was more out there - there had to be - and he wanted to find it firsthand. Wanted to see what most people were to arrogant or ignorant to even entertain the idea of. It was all too vast a scope for Stan to grasp. He didn't feel one way or the other about what was beyond Earth. He was here and whatever was out there was out there. That's all that mattered to him. If he was out there then it would matter more to him.

“Vel-Velleity.”

It took Stan quite a few moments to pick up on the word Rick said, the dope and his musings distracting him. “Huh? Vel-whatity?”

Grabbing and sparking a cigarette, Rick added to the smoke filling the car. “It means basically a st-stupid wish you won't make real.”

“So, your goals of travelin' through the stars an’ junk is jus', what, kiddie dreams?” Stan frowned, feeling like he was missing something.

Rick hummed for a moment as he smoked, moving his foot that was in the air, supporter on his other leg’s knee. “No, Stanley, I'm gonna get out there, one way or another, even if I have to build my own rocket out of shit from the-the junkyard.” He blew a smoke ring, watching it warp and twist, before adding, “Us doing it to-together, Stanley, is the stupid wish. We got different dreams and-and I know you'd rather go on your crappy boat with your lame brother than to the stars with me.”

“Well, we could do both. Sail around for awhile then go into space, right?” 

Rick stubbed out his cigarette, “Heh, y-yeah, then we could just switch off every couple a, couple of years. Sea then space then sea then space then--”

“Vegas!”

“Oh yeah, gotta, gotta hit up Vegas.”

“Get drunk, win big, trash a suite, maybe even get married.”

“I think y-y-you'd look good in a wedding dress.”

“Ya think? I'm not sure if white’s really my color.”

They laughed and kept laughing, falling into a fit of giggles from the imagery and the weed. 

-

“Do ya wanna go to prom with me?” Stan asked, rubbing the back of his neck, that dopey smile on his face.

Rick blinked. He hadn't expected the question. He hadn't even thought about prom despite the banners, fliers, and announcements that congested the school. It was a stupid high school function that was no different than any other stupid high school function - maybe more drinking and more girls regretting the morning after for losing their virginities in the heat of hormones and social pressure.

“We can't, if you haven't noticed, we're both guys, Stanley. Not uh, not something that w-would really go over well with homophobic masses.”

“Yeah, I know. Wasn't gonna buy ya a dress an’ flowers or nothing. Jus' go stag together with my brother. It ain't a bit deal for a group of guys to go together,” Stan reasoned.

“Y-yeah, going to prom with you and your brother would be the highlight of my high school ca-car-- life,” Rick deadpanned. 

“I'll get some beer an’ we can drink before going in, okay? C’mon, it'll be fun. Well, we can make fun of people there.”

There was a long, pregnant pause before Rick sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I'm going to regret this…”

Stan grinned and clapped his back, “That's the spirit!”

-

“W-where did you even _find_ that monstrosity, Stanley?” Rick managed to ask between laughs, nearly doubled over.

“It was the only tux in the pawn shop that fit. It's not _that_ bad.” Stan grumbled, pulling at the cuff of the pink tux.

“It is, it-it really is,” Rick gasped out, finally getting control of himself, wiping a stray tear from laughing so hard. 

Rick had on a pair of black slacks and a t-shirt, a novelty one that had the image of a bow tie and a button down printed on it. He also had on a pair of his least scuffed up black boots on. He was as dressed up as he was willing to get. 

“Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, Sanchez,” Stan huffed before wrapping his arms around Rick. He placed a kiss on his neck before letting go once again, smirking as he saw Rick’s skin redden.

Rick scoffed and looked around before asking, “W-well, are we, are we gonna get going to this stupid thing before I get my common sense back or-or what?” in a tone more harsh than probably needed.

“Yeah, my spicy little love burrito, we’re going,” Stan chuckled as Rick punched him in the arm, the flush having spread more before he went to wait in the car.   
-

“Well _that_ was an experience!” Rick laughed as he staggered into the motel room, drunk and unsteady. 

Stan still had on his soiled suit jacket, the once white button down shirt stained red with the punch he splashed on himself. He hadn't planned on ruining this suit - especially with how his father would be about it come the next day - but he couldn't just let Stanford stand there by himself; rejected and covered in the sticky drink. His brother appreciated the gesture and Rick got a laugh out of it so it wasn't all bad. 

Stan closed and locked the door behind him as he watched Rick plop down on the edge of the bed, still chuckling to himself and taking a drink of the liquor Stan had brought for him. He kicked off his dress shoes, letting them hit the side of the chair. Besides the punch stains, the rips and scuffs on the suit didn't make it much better.

-

The three guys were making their way out of the dance - two drenched in punch and one laughing at the other two - when a familiar, and annoying, voice called out to them.

It was Brad and a few of his cronies, following them out to start shit again.

“Sixer, get in the car, it'll be fine. Ya too, Rick.” Stan said as he moved to place himself between the advancing group and his brother and lover.

“What? No! I am not going to leave you to handle these neanderthals by yourself!”

“F-Fuck you, Pines, if you, if you think I'm gonna run away like a little bitch!”

Stan was met with resistance and he didn't have more time to argue before the group of around seven or eight burly football jocks closed in, forming a semicircle around them.

“Well, well, well… if it isn't the little fagot club. Already heading home to pack each other's fudge,” Brad said, sneering, getting a laugh from his followers.

“Probably can't wait to do blowjobs together,” another jock said, getting a few more chuckles. 

“F-for some self proclaimed straight guys, you're all interested in gay sex a lot, “Rick said from his spot to Stan's side, a step behind him, “makes you, makes you wonder.”

Stan snorted and Ford looked uncomfortable but firm in his resolve to stand by his brother.

Brad’s eyes narrowed, the cruel laughter completely gone and a thick silence followed. The air of spiteful mockery changed to something darker. It put Stan on edge. 

Brad took a step forward. “You think you're such hot shit with your stupid little comebacks. Wouldn't be saying nothin’ if your fagot boyfriend wasn't around to protect you.” 

When Brad moved towards them, Stan moved to stand more in front of Rick, making the other boy have to lean slightly to the side to see the group. It was an unconscious gesture; something Stan's body did automatically without him even thinking about it. 

Rick didn't like it, no matter how well meaning it was, because the act made him look weak. He was shorter, and a hell of a lot lighter, but he can still hold his own. He moved to stand in front of Stan, every movement full of defiance and confidence. 

“I don't give a fuuuuck who’s here. I'd still kick your ass one-on-one. Too bad you're to, too much of a bitch to fight by yourself. Gotta have y-your cronies around to make yourself look tougher than you are.” Rick gestured to the group of outliers behind him, a condescending smirk playing on his lips.

The image of Brad beet red with embarrassment and anger would have made Stan laugh if he didn't take a swing at Rick. The next couple of minutes were a blur of fists and shouts, onlookers forming a circle around the group before a couple of teachers came running to break it up. Stan, Rick, and Ford high tailed it out of there (Stan having to carry a screaming Rick), peeling out of the parking. 

Despite being outnumbered two to one, they came out alright. Ford was going to be sporting a shiner for awhile and Stan was sure he had some bruised ribs. Not bad at all.

\----

They had dropped Ford off, Stan asking him to cover for him, and they departed to a motel on the outskirts of town, skeezy but cheap. 

Stan watched as Rick had put the bottle down, struggling to take off his boots before flinging them across the room. Stan located a radio and turned it on, tuning into a station that was playing a slow song.

“Hey, we never got the chance to dance,” Stan said as he walked over of Rick, extending his hand. “Dance with me.”

Rick stared at the hand with a blank look before scoffing, an affectionate smirk gracing his face. “Y-you're such a-a sappy queer, Pines.” Rick took the hand anyway.

They danced in slow, lazy circles in the middle of the motel room, one song melding into the other. Rick hard his arms wrapped around Stan’s neck, head resting against the broad chest, the punch dried now, with large hands on his narrow waist. Stan nuzzled into Rick's hair, taking in his scent, before tilting his head up. Their eyes met and Stan leaned down to kiss him. It wasn't heated, fast, desperate like most of their kisses but it was intense, deep, something more. 

Rick slide his tongue against Stan's bottom lip, deepening the kiss. The air around them changed, hands working off clothes haphazardly as they stumbled over to the bed. The back of Rick's legs hit the bed, causing him to flop on it, shirtless, flushed, pants undone and hanging low on his hips. Stan drank in the sight, seeing the glazed lustful eyes staring up at him, wild blue-black hair splayed on the sheets. 

Not even Carla ever looked that good to him.

Stan pulled off Rick's pants and underwear in one go, Rick wiggling back on the bed more, his erection lying stiff on his stomach. Toeing off his socks, and ditching his pants and underwear as well, he climbed up on the bed between Rick's spread legs.

“S-so we’re finally, uh, finally doing this thing, huh?” Rick asked, trying to keep it light, but there was an anxious undertone to his voice.

“Yeah baby, we’re doing this. Relax, I got ya,” Stan murmured as he gave Rick a chaste kiss, kissing down his body, breathing out compliments and endearments against Rick's skin. 

Stan stopped to lick and nibble on Rick's nipples, listening to the gasps and poorly stifled moans, squirming under his touch. Nibbling on a hip bone, leaving a dark purple mark there that made Rick arch up, voice taking on a whining lit that made Stan chuckle against his skin. 

“St-St-Stanleeeey… C-C’mon already...” 

“S’okay baby, we got all night. Jus’ enjoy it.”

Stan pushed Rick's legs farther apart, making him bend his knees so his feet were flat on the bed. Stan kissed along a thigh as he groped around the bed for the stuff he took out of his pants pocket. He lifted his head to look at Rick; flushed, chest heaving, a collection of old and new hickeys on him. 

“Beautiful,” Stan breathed out. He lifted up a small tube of vaseline, making Rick focus on it before he spoke again. “Ya ready for this?”

“W-why do I gotta... why am I-I-I supposed to-to be the girl?” Rick stuttered, the flush darkening on his skin, the reality of what was going to happen hitting hard now.

“I'll take care of ya, I promise. I always make ya feel good, right?” Stan kissed up to the side of Rick's knee.

“Y-yeah…” Rick lamented before huffing, trying to sound irritated, “J-Just get on with it, Pines. W-while we’re young!”

Stan gave him a dopey smile before kissing down his other leg, reaching his cock and licking up it slowly. He licked and kissed along the shaft as he poured a generous amount of the lube onto his fingers. Fingers slide past Rick's balls and rubbed against his entrance. 

“A-ah! C-Cold!” Rick jerked his hips up a bit, trying to get away from the cold gel. 

Stan murmured an apology as he used his other hand to keep Rick's hip down, thumb rubbing soothing circles. He applied pressure, slowing pushing one thick finger inside to the knuckle. “Relax baby, it'll be easier if ya relax.” 

“Y-you try to - _ohh fuuuuck_ \- re-relax with a finger up your ass.” Rick grumbled out, the finger feeling uncomfortable and foreign. 

“It’ll feel good soon, I promise.” Stan reassured both Rick and himself. Working his finger slowly in and out as he took Rick's cock into his mouth. 

The pleasure distracted Rick enough for Stan to slip in another finger. The stretch burned and made Rick feel overfull but it strangely felt right. Stan twisted his fingers and Rick felt like he was hit by the ecstasy truck. 

“Fuck, fuck, _**fuuuck**_! Shit! W-what the _fuck_ was that?!” Rick squealed, toes curling and hands fisted in the sheets, body trembling. 

Stan pulled off Rick's cock to study him as he brushed his fingers against the little bunch of extra flesh inside Rick. Rick cried out, trying to buck up, insides clenching tight around the invading digits. Stan focused on that little bundle of nerves, making Rick squeal and writhe, sliding in a third finger.

“Shit, shit, fuck! Stanley, fuck me now!” Rick cried out after a few minutes, precum leaking from his twitching cock. 

Stan pulled out his fingers slowly, kneeling up. He grabbed the condom on the bed, ripping it open with his teeth. The condom slipped on easy enough and Stan put extra lube on, pumping it a few times before positioning himself at Rick's entrance.

“I'm goin' in now… It's gonna hurt a bit at first but it'll feel good again soon.” Stan warned, hesitating.

“J-just put it in already, hermoso. I-I need it, p-please…” Rick said, rolling his hips in need. 

He didn't need to be told twice. Stan slowly ease his way in, using all his willpower to keep from slamming into that incredibly tight heat. He bent over Rick, hooking his knees over his arms so they were near his chest, giving him more room and making him sink deeper inside.

“Fuck… y-you're fucking massive, fuck…” Rick hissed out. Despite the stretching and the lube, it still hurt. 

Stan pressed soft kisses over his face, murmuring words of encouragement. “There, it's all the way in. You're doin’ great babe. I'm gonna make ya feel good again real soon.”

A few moments passed before Rick indicated that Stan could move. Stan pulled out halfway before pushing back in, grunting. He was able to keep the slow pace for a few strokes before speeding up a bit, listening to Rick's gasping moans. Stan rolled his hips, trying to find that spot again. 

“Mierda!” Rick nearly screamed, arching his back up off the bed before his hands scrambled for purchase on Stan's shoulders. “Th-t-that was i-insaaane! Again!”

Stan grinned and thrusted in again and again, brushing or hitting that spot every few thrusts. He winced as he felt Rick's nails digging into his shoulders, scraping over his skin. Stan let go of one of Rick's legs, letting it hook onto his hip as he slid his hand between them, stroking Rick's cock almost in time with his thrusting. 

“I-I-I'm gonna cum…. So f-fucking cloooose,” Rick gasped out. 

Stan was nearly at his limit too but he wanted to make Rick cum first. “C’mon baby, cum for me.” Stan stroked him faster, his hips stuttering and pace uneven.

Rick had one hand fly to him mouth, stifling an exceptionally loud moan, spilling over onto their chests and stomachs and Stan's hand. 

The tight heat got even tighter, constricting like a vice, making it difficult for Stan to keep going. He was able to thrust a few last times before reaching his own climax, pushing as deep as he could. Stan let go of Rick's other leg, propping himself up on his elbows over Rick, panting, skin slick with sweat.

“Nnngh… You're heavy. G'off.” Rick whined, squirming a bit.

Stan lifted his head from where it had been resting on Rick's chest. He smiled softly, kissing Rick on the lips before slowly pulling out his softening cock. He pulled the condom off and tied it before chucking it towards the trash bin across the room. It went in.

“Woo!” Stan chuckled before laying on his side, head propped up on one hand, facing Rick. 

“T-two hole-in-ones for you tonight, huh?” Rick snorted before rolling over with a grunt, digging in his discarded pants for his smokes. 

They laid there; naked, enjoying a cigarette and a comfortable silence. 

Rick snorted again before chuckling. “I-I'm a fucking cliché now. Fucking lost my, my virginity on prom night like s-some insecure chick hoping to keep her man as they go to different colleges.”

“Good thing we're not goin’ to different colleges. Ya jus’ gave it up because of my rugged good looks an’ incredible charm.” Stan snubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Y-yeah, swept me off my, off my feet with acne and lame pet names.”

“Aww, but sugar plum, I thought ya loved my lame pet names.” Stan brushed away a lock of hair stuck to Rick’s face.

“Love them as much as I-I love a dick up my ass.” 

“So a lot, then.” Stan grinned.

Rick shoved at Stan’s chest playfully. “Shut it, Pines.”

Stan laughed, drawing Rick into his arms, nuzzling the top of his head. “Fuck,” Stan sighed into Rick’s hair. “I love ya, Rick.”

Rick wriggled back enough to look at Stan's face, squinting hard. “W-what?”

“I said, ‘I love ya,’” Stan met Rick's weary gaze with firm resolve in his own.

“Pfffbt,” Rick scoffed. “‘L-love’ is just a-a chemical reaction that compels animals to breed - to fuck, Stanley. It's a hard hitting, grabs-you-by-the-nuts bitch of a quasi-mystical _emotion_ that people put too much stock in as being special when all it is is synapses firing oxytocin around y-your skull.” 

Stan just gave Rick that dopey smile of his as he kissed Rick's forehead. “Well, I guess we got chemistry, huh?” Stan chuckled at his own joke. “Love is a bitch, yeah, and it may be just a thing to make people fuck but I love ya. I don't care if it's some chemical hoozit ‘cause you made me feel it. Not anyone else - you.”

Rick snorted, an amused smile on his face as he shook his head. “Y-you are such a sappy pine tree. I-I guess no one makes me feel it either but you. Though I do wanna sock you in the, in the face. A lot.”

“Yeah, me too, sweetheart.” Stan laughed, pulling Rick back to his chest. Rick didn't say the words outright but what he did say was more than enough. At least he felt the same way.

-

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Stan hit his steering wheel in frustration, nearly swerving as he drove, blinking back stinging tears. _Stupid Pa, stupid project, stupid Sixer! ...Sixer…_

Stan didn't have any place to go now, no home anymore. He was alone. The dynamic duo broken up over an _accident_. He didn't want Ford to go to that fancy-schmancy college but he wouldn't purposely break his stupid machine. Right? Right.

The car pulled up in front of a house he immediately recognized as Rick’s. It took some coercing to find out where Rick actually lived. He could have broke into the personal records at school to find out but it meant more when Rick trusted him enough to tell him. Even more when Rick invited him inside. He smiled a little. 

Stan got out of his car, going to the side of the house, it was late but not horribly so. Rick should still be up. A flurry of little pebbles hit Rick's bedroom window, _pink-pinking_ of the glass. Stan got another handful of pebbles and was about to toss them when the window opened.

“Wh-w-what the fuck, Stanley?! It's after midnight,” Rick hissed out, just barely loud enough for Stan to hear. 

“I… I needed to see - to talk to you. It's important.” Stan whisper-shouted back.

Rick leaned through the window, peering down at Stan that was only illuminated by the yellowish-orange glow of a streetlight. Whatever he saw made him hurry out a “I-I'll meet you in your car i-in two minutes” before closing the window quietly.

Those two minutes seemed to never end and pass by far too quickly to Stan when Rick hopped into the passenger’s side.

“What happened?” Rick asked, wearing a jacket over his muscle shirt and boxers. 

Stan opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and turned away from Rick, folding his arms against the steering wheel and leaning on it. “I… I got kicked out.” Stan said, voice barely above a strained whisper.

“W-what? What in the _fuck_ why?” 

“Well, I fucked up. Fucked up real bad. ‘Cause I broke Sixer’s science project. Ya know the one that would get him into that nerd college? Yeah, that one. He came home and started yelling and Pa overheard. Pa kicked me out and… and Stanford just let him. He just stood in the window and watched.” Stan shuddered and hunched his shoulders, the wound still extremely fresh. “It-it was an accident… a stupid accident made by an idiot.”

Rick was uncharacteristically quiet before Stan felt Rick's side press up against his. Nimble fingers gripped Stan's forearm gently. “That’s really fucked up, Stanley, r-real fucked up. They shouldn't have, shouldn't have kicked you out for an accident. And, no, you're not an idiot be-because you fucked up. You're not an idiot, period. And fuck ‘em. Fuck your dad and fuuuuck your br-brother. If they're gonna get that worked up over a, over an accident then you're better off without ‘em.”

Stan looked up, red rimmed eyes full of unshed tears. “Where am I gonna go, Rick? What am I gonna do? I got… I got nothing now.”

Rick frowned and poked Stan in the ribs. “W-what am I, chop liver? You still got me, Stanley. And we'll figure it out. Th-this could be a good thing. Wait a - hold on a minute. Just stay here.”

Before Stan could say anything, Rick was booking it to his house, slipping in as quietly as he could. It was a long wait before Rick came back, fully dressed with his backpack and two duffel bags, one under each arm. Rick put his bags into the backseat, grinning at Stan as he sat up front. “Al-alright, I'm ready.”

“What? Ready for what?” Stan asked, honestly confused.

“To go, duh! I got clothes and some of my important sh-shit too, and some cash for now. We'll be, be set for a little while.”

“Ya… ya wanna come with me?” Stan asked, incredulous. “What about your family? Graduation? Your life here?”

Rick snorted, “I was gonna leave as soon as I, as soon as I graduated. Going a little earlier isn't a big deal. Now, c’mon, Lee, let's goooo!”

Stan still stared at Rick for a few seconds. He was in disbelief that Rick didn't even hesitate joining him in his exile. It made his chest tighten and his stomach do a fluttery flip. 

“Yeah, okay.” Stan smiled as he turned the ignition, driving off into the middle of the night.

They had no destination, no plan, nothing but each other. That was enough.


End file.
